


What Remains of Jim Starling

by Fanfictioning_Librarian



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Action, Comfort, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfictioning_Librarian/pseuds/Fanfictioning_Librarian
Summary: Jim Starling has been officially declared dead and Drake Mallard, the new Darkwing Duck, is left to pick up the pieces.





	1. His Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. This is my first story published on AO3. Previously, I was publishing under DanniB on Fanfiction.net.  
Also this is my first Ducktales reboot story.
> 
> The names of the actors from the Darkwing Duck TV show were taken from cresselia8themoon and used with permission.
> 
> Please review.

They never did find the body.

It had been several weeks since the incident and the soundstage had been searched thoroughly. No hospitals had reported anyone checked in who matched his description. Missing person flyers went unanswered. Homeless shelters denied ever seeing him and neither did any morgues. Even Gizmoduck had been tapped to perform a search, but even with all his advanced technology, he too uncovered no evidence of Jim Starling, alive or dead.

Eventually the city lost interest and funds and decided to move on. Jim was announced legally dead. Which meant someone had to handle the necessary arrangements involved to dissolve his estate. 

Having been the one who recently purchased the rights to the entire Darkwing Duck franchise, Scrooge McDuck stepped forward to take up the charitable, and naturally profitable, task of managing that responsibility. 

"The man left behind no will, and had no next of kin, or any family to speak of." The trillionare explained as he was being interviewed by Roxanne Featherly. "His personal effects became city property after the statute of limitations ran out so McDuck Auctioneers Unlimited will be humbly handling the distribution of these belongings. My company is also financing this memorial service today in his honor." 

Scrooge gestured to the funeral home behind them.

"Very generous indeed, Mr. McDuck. But I suppose it's the least you can do considering Jim Starling allegedly perished while on the set of your movie studio." Roxanne shrewdly commented. 

The elder duck held back an annoyed snarl.

"Yes, that was an unfortunate and completely _accidental_ turn of events." he cleared his throat and composed himself. "But let us focus of Jim's life rather than his apparent death. The memorial service is open to any and all of his fans to attend and celebrate his fine career in show business." He turned to the camera. "The service starts at noon today, but if you intend to come I suggest you show up early. I expect a record turnout of Starling fans to show up."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Thirty minutes before the service was scheduled to start and Drake Mallard stood alone in the lobby of the funeral home.

He hovered over the sign-in book placed on a podium at one end of the room. It's pages were mostly bare save for the signatures of Mr. McDuck's family members. Launchpad's was running in a few places, looking a bit tear-stained, while Dewey's took up half a page with its size and various embellishments. 

He moved pen to paper, but hesitated to sign it. He wanted people to know he had been there, especially since as of yet no other fans had shown, but anxiety gripped him when he thought about how Jim had reacted to him showing up at the director's office, and on the lot, and at the movie set. There were only so many hints and full bodily assaults to let a guy know he wasn't welcome. 

"Um, Mr. Mallard?" a small voice broke his train of thought. Looking down he saw Dewey's brother, Huey, dressed nicely in a black suit with a headset on, a clipboard in his hand, and a slightly frazzled expression. 

"Sorry to bother you, but I need to confirm wether or not you're willing to be an alternate to give today's eulogy." 

Drake was confused. "What about Jim's costars? I thought they were giving the eulogy." 

"They're still slotted to be the main speakers." Huey explained. "But the problem is they appear to be running late with no notice as to their estimated time of arrival."

"They're not here yet? All four of them?" Drake's voice echoed in the nearly empty hall. The red hatted boy gave a sigh, showing his frustration. 

"Uncle Scrooge told them what time they needed to be here, but it I guess they're aiming to be fashionably late!" he took a breath to halt his ensuing freak- out and turned back to Drake. "Seeing as how you're the president of the Jim Starling fan club, you're the next most qualified to give the eulogy." 

"But, I don't have anything prepared." Drake stammered. 

"It doesn't have to be fancy, just talk about Mr. Starling for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. You can write what you want to say on these." Huey handed him some blank index cards then looked to him hopefully. "So, can I pencil you in?"

Drake certainly didn't want to let anyone down. The low fan turnout was disappointing enough, now it seemed that Jim's own costars wanted nothing to do with him after he was gone. Somebody had to step up and say something about the man who had inspired him to become a hero, and a hero was certainly needed right now. 

"I'll do it." he nodded. 

Huey grinned with relief, then tapped his headset to speak into it.

"Webby, were you able to get access to the funeral director's office? We're going to need to print inserts for the handouts of today's itinerary." He turned to Drake on last time. "Your last name is spelled with two Ls right? Yes, Webby, he agreed to do it, so I'll need you to be on standby at the computer..." he left the room explaining the size and color of his requested inserts, leaving Drake alone again with his thoughts.

"Okay. This shouldn't be hard at all." He said aloud to himself. "Ten minutes talking about my childhood hero? I do that all the time. And for way longer. And sometimes to complete strangers. So, today won't be any different." He looked to the memorial display of blue and purple roses, wreathed around a glossy photo of Jim, and was reminded of the one glaring difference. 

"Of course, that was before Jim went a little crazy...and died...which I feel ... partially responsible for..." 

Off to the side he spotted a familiar, barrel-chested figure exiting the restroom.

"Launchpad!" he yelled, catching his larger friend off guard.

"Uh, I wasn't hiding in the bathroom so no one can see me cry!" the pilot quickly and loudly denied, despite a tear soaked handkerchief in his hand. 

"Launchpad, I could really use your help right now." Drake sprinted over.

When Launchpad saw it was his friend calling to him, his nervous smile turned more genuine. 

"Oh sure, what do you need, buddy?" 

"Jim's costars are missing in action and now I have to give the eulogy and...I'm not sure of what to say." 

Launchpad gave a confused frown. 

"But, you're always gushing about his work on Darkwing Duck." 

"Yeah," Drake sighed, "but that's just it. I know all his work from Darkwing Duck, but I didn't really know him. I wanted to get to know him. I was so excited that day at the signing. I had pictured everything happening so differently. 

"In my mind we'd meet, and I'd ask him to help me prepare for the movie and and he'd say, 'I'd love to help you bring Darkwing Duck to a new generation.' and he'd show me all his moves and tell me stories about the old show and I'd tell him about how he was my hero growing up and I had always wanted to be like him and then the movie would come out and it'd be a HUGE success and Jim would say, 'Great job Drake. I'm so proud of you. You're like the son I never had, but always wanted.'" 

He stopped rambling and blushed, realizing that he was perhaps baring his soul a bit too much. Out of reflex he braced himself for an onslaught of ridicule. But Launchpad's face only bore an expression of empathy and understanding. This bolstered him a little, but his frown remained. 

"It didn't turn out that way though." he gave a nervous chuckle. "I'm pretty sure he hated me." 

"Ah, that's only because he never got the chance to know you." Launchpad assured him, gently laying his hands on Drake's shoulders."I know that if he hadn't been blown to smithereens, he would have come around to realize that you're pretty awesome."

"Maybe..." Drake trailed off. He remembered the look in Jim's eyes moments before the accident. The look of someone who had regrets. The look of someone who wanted to make things right. Jim's final moment had been a heroic one and Drake wanted to honor that hero. He gazed on the photo again. Jim in his Darkwing costume, looking mysterious and brave. 

"I want to do this right. I want him remembered the way he wanted to be remembered." He sighed, laying a hand on Launchpad's arm, looking up at his fellow Darkwing fan earnestly. "What if I'm not the right person to do this?" 

"Drake, I can't think of anyone more qualified to give this speech than you."

Launchpad's smile was warm and encouraging, easing the tight knot in Drake's chest.

"Except, maybe those guys." The pilot's head turned to the quartet of rowdy men now entering the funeral hall.

"Hey, hey! We didn't miss the party, did we?" 

Drake recognized the chuckling voice of Michael Bill, the actor who had played Quackerjack. He came prancing in wearing a brightly clashing suit and tie. Looked like he had the same fashion sense as the clownish character he once played. 

Thankfully, his three costars arrived wearing clothes more befitting the somber occasion.

"Wow, Michael Bill, Tino Chickpea, Dan Rattigan and Jack Russel!" Launchpad swooned. "These guys haven't made an appearance all together since the Darkwing Duck 10th anniversary reunion special." 

Under any other circumstances Drake would have been equally ecstatic to be in the same room as the actors who once portrayed the Fearsome Four, arch nemeses of Darkwing Duck. In fact he was a little bit star struck. But his heart sank knowing the reason they were here was to pay their respects to their fallen costar. 

"Oh, thank goodness you made it!" Huey shouted as he ran up to greet them. "We're starting in less than twenty minutes!" 

"Sorry about that. Our ride-share got stuck in traffic on the way from the airport." Tino, who had played the dangerous mutated botanist, Dr. Bushroot, apologized meekly. 

Drake handed Lauchpad his index cards. "Looks like I won't be needing these after all." he said with relief. 

"Do you have your speeches prepared?" Huey asked, taking out his clipboard. "Were you planning on speaking one at a time or doing something all together?" 

"Ooh hoo, we've got a speech alright." Michael grinned, "There's some stuff I've wanted to say about ol' Jimbo for years." 

"Yeah, we're gonna give him a roast for the ages." Dan enthusiastically added with a weasley laugh befitting Megavolt. 

"One hundred percent guaranteed to get the audience rolling in the aisles." Jack proclaimed with the same salesman bravado that had made the Liquidator so memorable. 

"Wait. Roast? Like, make fun of Jim?" Launchpad blinked, confused. "That doesn't sound very nice." 

Drake grit his teeth. Perhaps these actors were just as villainous in real life as they were on TV, at least when it came to their lack of respect towards the hard working hero who had carried the show and had given his life for his fans.

He snatched the cards back from Launchpad's hand with a quick, "Gimmie those" and approached Huey once the Fearsome Four had left to get ready for their "performance". 

"Think I could still get a chance to speak after they've finished?" he asked. 

The red-capped boy studied his clipboard momentarily. 

"Well, I guess if they wrap up early, I could squeeze you in for five minutes before we'd have to start clearing out the auditorium..." 

"Great! Thanks!" Drake cut him off before dashing back to Lauchpad and leaving the bewildered triplet to once again reorganize the day's itinerary. 

,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Ladies and gentlemen, Jim Starling died as he lived: loud and hogging the spotlight." Dan began, eliciting a chuckle from his costars and members of the audience.

The auditorium wasn't completely full, but enough last minute arrivals; fans, members of the press and curious people with a free afternoon, had gathered to fill the seats so that the event didn't look nearly as pathetic as Drake had feared. 

He half-listened to the quartet riff on Jim's hammy acting, over the top dedication to his stunt work, and off-screen, diva-like tendencies as he scribbled down what he would say to counter their ridicule and spare his hero's dignity. 

Occasionally he overheard Dewey laughing at one of the many jokes at Starling's expense or Launchpad sniffling into his handkerchief, but nothing distracted him from his noble mission.  
By the time the four had finished speaking, he had enough thoughts written down that he was confident he would deliver the perfect speech. 

As the last of the applause died down, Huey ushered the actors offstage and stood behind the podium. 

"Um, let's thank our guests for their... colorful remembrance of Mr. Starling's career. Now, before we make our closing statements, we have one last speaker. May I introduce the president of the Jim Starling fan club, Mr. Drake Mallard." 

There was some polite clapping that faded quickly as Drake took the stage. He noticed a scattered portion of the audience rise from their seats and leave the room. No doubt they had only come for the Fearsome Four, not a fanboy they had never heard of. He was okay with that. The true Darkwing fans would stay.

He cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I didn't know Jim Starling personally, but as a child I watched him as Darkwing Duck week after week, stopping crime and fighting for what was right all while performing his own stunts. He inspired me to do my best, even if that meant defying impossible and ridiculous odds, because he always put one hundred and ten percent into pursuing his goals, no matter what the obstacles. He was my hero and for many of you I'm sure you feel the same. 

"Sure, he had his flaws. He may have made some mistakes along the way. But he was only human and as Darkwing he proved time and again that nothing should stop you from following your dreams. Not bad guys, not explosions, not even your own mistakes." 

"It's so true." Launchpad nodded, teary-eyed.

"During the brief opportunity I did get to meet him, he showed me... an intense dedication to his craft. He wanted Darkwing Duck to be remembered and I believe that Darkwing's... That Jim's legacy can live on in how we live our lives: Do what's right. Never give up. Get dangerous." 

Launchpad stood and gave a roaring applause. 

"Whooo! Yeah! Bravo!" he shouting a wiped a tear from his eye. "That was so beautiful."

He took his seat. Dewey did too after standing on his chair and looking around.

"Too bad nobody stuck around to hear it." the blue triplet said bluntly. 

Drake lifted his eyes from where Launchpad was standing to see that while he had been distracted by his speaking, most of the audience had gotten up and left, leaving fewer people than he had fingers. 

,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The memorial stone was small; barely the size of a traffic cone, but it was better than nothing at all. There had been some debate over whether or not to have one of Jim's famous Darkwing catchphrases written on it, but considering the nature of his final moments, "Let's get Dangerous" didn't quite feel appropriate for the epitaph. And Scrooge wasn't about to put a full "I am the Terror..." quote on the stone for $10 a letter. So the stone only read, 

"In memory of Jim Starling- Our hero." 

The humility of the monument however didn't stop Launchpad from completely losing his composure, bawling like a widow with heavy, sloppy tears. 

"He was taken from us too soon!" He wailed, dropping to his knees. 

Drake nodded, kneeling down next to him to place a small candle before the memorial. The sun was setting, letting the tiny flame's glow illuminate the stone's etched face. 

Scrooge checked his pocket watch.

"They're closing the cemetery in five minutes, Lads." He warned.

Launchpad didn't seem to hear him over his own sobbing. Drake placed a hand on his shoulder. Dewey came to his other side and did the same.

"Time to go buddy." Drake said softly. 

Launchpad let out a small whine and snorted loudly, wiping his face with his sleeve. He slowly got to his feet and replaced his hat. He had removed it out of respect and had been wringing it in his hands through the whole service, leaving it wrinkled and lumpy now that it was back on his head

"It just doesn't seem fair." He mourned. "Jim had so much more to give." 

Drake looked over the memorial stone and the floral and photo display that had been moved outside next to it. Looking at Jim Starling his prime, he was struck with the realization that the hero who had shaped his formative years was really gone and he would never get the chance to connect with the man behind the mask. It took the act of burying his hero, though there was no actual body to speak of, for the impact to fully sink into his heart. 

"I know," He choked, "It isn't fair, is it?" He bit his lower lip, tears he had been holding back all day making their long awaited appearance. He took several deep breaths, trying desperately to push through and hold himself together. 

He felt a strong arm wrap around him gently and he found himself looking up into Launchpad's sympathetic face. The look in the larger duck's still wet eyes was all he needed to see to let him know he didn't have to hold back his feelings here. 

The next second both men were hugging each other and sobbing loudly. 

Scrooge rolled his eyes and prodded them with the tip of his cane.

"Alright y'pair of blubbering banshees, the daisies are pushing up fine here without you two watering them." 

Still clinging to one another, Launchpad and Drake walked slowly towards the iron gates. 

"Thank you for doing all this, Mr. McDuck." Drake said once he had steadied himself. "It was a lovely service." 

"Eh, it was okay." Dewey shrugged. "I'm going to make sure my funeral has fireworks and a bouncy castle." 

"Well, I think wherever Jim is now..." Launchpad mused, looking at the sunset, "He'd appreciate all his fans coming together to remember him." 

,,,,,,,,,,,,

The sun had completely set. A lone figure stood in the darkened graveyard over the pathetically small stone meant to be the memorial of Jim Starling.

It was surrounded by a meager pile of flowers and Darkwing Duck themed knick- knacks, a wreath with his picture in the center off to one side, a lone candle nearly burned to it's bottom, nothing elaborate. 

He sneered at how lackluster it all was. Nowhere near what a celebrity like he deserved. 

Only a handful of people had shown up to pay their respects after the service had ended. He had been expecting mourners in droves, a statue in his honor, or at least a marathon of his show on TV! 

Instead his memory had been mocked by his former costars. Oh, he'd get his revenge on them soon enough. As for that wannabe actor, swooping in, pretending to care, just to look good in front of an audience: what he had planned for that poser was going to make him regret stealing the name "Darkwing" for the rest of his days.

He had briefly considered making an appearance right there in the middle of the service. After all, nothing gets attention like crashing your own funeral. But he already had bigger plans in mind and he wanted to keep the element of surprise in his favor. All he needed was a little more time to work out some details, gather some supplies, and then he'd be ready to make his grand reentrance into the spotlight he so rightly deserved. 

So let the world think Jim Starling was dead. In a way it was poetic. He'd shed that old, unpopular persona that fans had lost interest in long ago, only to rise back into the public eye as something fresh, something new, something that would knock everyone's socks off.

[To Be Continued]


	2. His Worldly Posessions

Drake and Launchpad had seen the house before in photos. It wasn't quite a mansion, especially compared to McDuck manor, but it was large enough to gain the attention of anyone passing by. Two stories, three car garage, swimming pool in the back, and today, long rows of tables spread out over the front lawn. 

Scrooge orchestrated his hired workers in bringing out any and all of Jim Starling's personal belongings and sorting them. 

"Clothing to the south side, small furniture to the east. Any unused toiletries can go in the clearance pile."

The driver/ pilot and former actor seemed oblivious to all the hubbub going on around them. Standing there, beaks agape, engrossed by the idea they were standing in the shadow of their childhood hero's home and now being surrounded by that hero's stuff. 

Stuff that the triplets were already sifting through. 

"Hey, Launchpad, look!" Dewey called, showing off by balancing a silver serving spoon on his beak. "I found Starling's sterling." 

"Heh, good one Dewey." Launchpad smiled at his young friend's wordplay.

Louie looked less than impressed, going through a box of men's grooming products. 

"When I think of going through a celebrity's personal things, I'm expecting gold watches, designer clothes, high-end electronics, not..." He pulled out a bottle and gave it a sniff, then recoiled. "Stinky, cheap cologne." 

Launchpad snatched the bottle and gave it a deep inhale. "Ooh, smells like justice."

He passed the bottle to an equally enthusiastic Drake, who sniffed it like one would a fine wine. "Hmmm, musky." 

They started pawing through the rest of the box, ogling tins of pomade, containers of beak wax, and cans of body spray.

"I wanna smell famous!" Dewey announced, jumping in to join them. Louie rolled his eyes at them all. 

"It just goes to show you, Louie lad," Scrooge came over with a grin. "One man's trash will always be another man's treasure. Of course, as Starling's biggest fans, I expected that Launchpad and Mallard here would have a deep appreciation and knowledge of his personal effects." 

He addressed the two men, "Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know if this hairbrush would fetch a higher price with or without his hair still in it?" 

He held up the brush in question, white feathers tangled in the bristles. The two gazed upon it wide-eyed, as if beholding some fabulous prize. 

"Ha! Jim Starling was lightyears from being that level of famous." A gruff voice laughed. 

"Not that it stopped him from acting like he was." A sharp voice bit in agreement. 

Everyone turned to see a peahen, well dressed in a beige business suit, approaching the group. With her, a more casually dressed pig-man. 

Scrooge walked over to greet them. "Ah, Miss Pinfeather. Right on time as always." he turned back to introduce his friend. "Boys, this is Pricilla Pinfeather, head of McDuck Auctioneers Unlimited. She's here to oversee the authentication and appraisal of Starling's belongings and ready them for the estate sale and auction tomorrow." 

"Thank you Mr. McDuck. I brought with me Dave Johnswine, owner of Bang-Zoom: Comics and Toys. He's my go-to expert in the buying and selling of television celebrity memorabilia." 

"Though, when it comes to Jim Starling, we can use the term 'celebrity' loosely." Johnswine chuckled. 

Drake and Launchpad stared at Johnswine incredulously.

"Maybe Jim's career wasn't as widespread as other actors, but he was still popular back in his Darkwing days." Drake tried to explain. 

"Oh, please," Johnswine snorted "Darkwing Duck was a novelty, even back then." 

"But it taught such important life lessons about doing the right thing and never giving up." Launchpad praised. 

Johnswine laughed, "Man, are we talking about the same show? All I remember was bad acting, hokey special effects, and Starling embarrassing himself every episode with that so-called stunt work." 

"Jim's stunt work earned him a loyal following that's still strong to this day." Drake scowled defiantly. "I should know, I've been maintaining a busy fan site since I was in Middle School." he crossed his arms smugly. 

"I'm afraid a cult following of a few dozen Darkwing fans doesn't generate the kind of demand Mr. McDuck is looking for to sell the late Mr. Starling's belongings for a decent profit." Miss Pinfeather commented. "And I should know because a few years ago Jim Starling himself came to me to auction off a few of his Darkwing Duck odds and ends for some extra cash. Do you know what became of those items?" 

"A super rich fan added them to their special collection? They're in a museum? Ooh! They ended up in an exhibit in the television hall of fame!?" Launchpad guessed. 

"They're currently hanging on a wall in a St. Canard Owlbees." she answered with a mocking grin. She then turned to Scrooge. 

"Mr. McDuck, I wouldn't rely too heavily on the opinions of these two to properly price this merchandise. While their passion for the subject may be a good barometer for selling to the fan base, the Darkwing Duck following is far too niche a market. The average collector isn't going to bid for an overpriced bathroom scale just because some flash-in-the-pan actor like Starling once stood on it." 

"But Darkwing Duck is going to be popular again soon." Launchpad defended. "Now that there's a real Darkwing out there fighting crime." He casually placed a hand on Drake's shoulder. 

Johnswine scoffed, "You mean that weirdo who's been running around in an off-model Darkwing costume beating up purse snatchers? Just some unoriginal copycat trying to ride the superhero trend after Gizmoduck made it popular." 

An anger sparked in Drake's chest, now this guy was insulting *both* Darkwing Ducks. 

He stepped forward, a snarl under his breath. "Darkwing Duck was around long before that Toaster on a unicycle ever showed up." He then added, "And the costume isn't off-model, that's the official design for the movie reboot...that...never actually got finished."

"Gizmoduck is still cooler." Johnswine shrugged. "No version of Darkwing can compete with that suit." 

"That suit is a crutch. Darkwing never needed anything like that to save the day. During the moon invasion, the new Darkwing performed acts of heroism that I bet Gizmoduck wouldn't even dream of doing without that computerized garbage can on." 

Drake was now nearly bill to snout with Johnswine, who stared at him like the duck had lost his mind.

"Darkwing was at the moon invasion?" The pig asked, genuinely taking this as new information.

"YES! He...of course he was!" Drake pulled his feathers in frustration. But he held his tongue, knowing if he argued any further he'd risk exposing his very personal connection to Darkwing Duck. He still grit his teeth, his face hot with anger.

He felt Launchpad place his hands on his shoulders and gently pull him back. 

"Easy buddy," he said calmly. "take a deep breath."

Scrooge, sensing the impending failure to collaborate, stepped in. 

"Uh, Launchpad, why don't you take your friend and explore the interior while I have Mr. Johnswine examine what's already been brought out."

"Sure thing Mr. McDee." Launchpad said with a quick salute, using his hand still on Drake to guide him inside the Starling estate, Dewey following.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Naturally, Dewey was all over the idea of being let loose in a TV star's house. Launchpad too. And once Drake saw the foyer walls adorned with Darkwing posters, framed magazine clippings and set photos, he was quickly distracted from his animosity towards Johnswine. He joined the others eagerly bounding from room to room taking in all the Darkwing themed merchandice that Starling had gathered from over the years while dodging the workers in the process of moving everything out.

"A Darkwing Duck pinball machine!" Dewey oohed.

"The inline skates he wore in that episode he saved the city from being overrun by that evil skateboard gang." Launchpad gushed practically smooshing his beak into the glass display case.

"Hey, it's the saxaphone he played over the end credits!" Drake opened the hard case containing the instrument.

Dewey continued to poke around finding a wall of plaques that he read aloud.

"Record holder: Most bones broken during the filming of a television series,

Stuntman of the year nominee: 1993,

1994 Winner: Tastiest breakfast cereal tie-in for Fruity Darkwing-O's with Marshmellows." 

He turned to the Launchpad, "Did this guy win any awards I've actually heard of?" 

"Well, Jim never did win any mainstream awards," Lauchpad rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly "but he didn't need trophies to prove how great he was. Right, Drake?" 

Drake was quiet, his attention on a poster at the other end of the room. 

"Uh, Drake?" Dewey tried getting his attention.

"Huh?" He shook off his contemplation.

"You okay, buddy?" Launchpad asked, coming over. 

"Launchpad, do you think in thirty years people will remember the things I do as Darkwing Duck?"

"Of course." The pilot didn't hesitate. "You just need more time to get everyone's attention."

A smile played on his face. He looked to Launchpad with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"My whole life I tried to do everything like Jim did, if just to try and capture some of what made him so amazing. Yesterday, I thought I'd never get the chance, but maybe there's still a way I can learn more about him. Everything he left behind is another clue to who he really was. Then, I can really be the best Darkwing Duck I can be. And guys like Johnswine won't think I'm just some wannabe hero." He frowned at that last thought.

"Alright, a search for the real Jim Starling. Will we find some deep, dark secrets? Some amazing, world-changing revelation?" Dewey announced, hyping up thier unfolding adventure. "Onward men, to discovery!"

,,,,,,,,,,,,  
The typewriter in the office had gotten Drake's attention and his hopes up that perhaps Jim had been working on a memoir. But aside from a filing cabinet full of boasts about his acting prowess in an introduction thanking the reader for buying his now unpublished book, it appeared Jim hadn't left behind any incite about his life before or after Darkwing Duck.

Starling's private gym also held some promise, especially when they found a video camera containing a tape of Jim's workout routine edited into a pilot for something called 'Darkwingrobics', which mostly consisted of Jim in his workout clothes plus Darkwing hat, cape and mask, getting mangled by his own gym equipment. 

The parlor had a very nice bar, but the wine bottles were dusty and untouched for what seemed like a long time. There was an opened bottle of whiskey, but no sign Starling had been doing any serious entertaining.

In the kitchen, they found a freezer full of single serve microwave dinners, several cans of diet Pep, and evidence of a subscription to a Cheese of the Month Club.

"Well, The biggest discovery I've made today is that outside of being Darkwing Duck, Jim Starling was a very boring man." Dewey moaned as the trio rummaged through boxes in the garage. "Except for that workout video, we have got to put that online. That thing is gonna go so viral." He laughed at the thought of it. 

Drake and Launchpad exchanged hesitant looks, not exactly on board with the idea of their idol finding posthumous popularity in an embarrassing online video.

"So much for finding the secret to Jim's success." Drake sighed. "I was hoping for something that would speak to me. Something that would point me towards superhero glory." He lowered his head in disappointment. "Insted, all I learned about him that I didn't already know was that he liked Errol Finch movies, he collected little ceramic big-eyed duckling figurines, and that he learned the hard way you shouldn't wear a cape on a stationary bike. Interesting? Yes. Qualities that'll help me stand out over Gizmoduck? Not even close."

Launchpad looked concerned for his friend. With every failed attempt at a connection with their hero, Drake was sinking deeper into melancholy. He silently resolved that they were going to find something in this garage that would lift Drake's spirits. He wandered over to a random shelf and pulled something off.

"Oh, hey look, paint. Maybe Jim did some soulful expression through art." He lifted up some cans off a shelf for Drake to see.

"That's house paint, Launchpad." Drake frowned. 

"You could learn a lot about a man by what color he paints his house." The pilot tried but frowned when he saw this wasn't going anywhere.

"Launchpad! Launchpad!" Dewey called from across the garage. "I found exactly what we've been looking for!" When Launchpad approached, the boy opened a box revealing it was full of smoke bombs. "Quick, get these in the limo."

Launchpad blinked, "Um, Dewey, I'm pretty sure Mr. McDee was planning to auction off all the Darkwing stuff, remember? We can't just take those." He said with a stern but gentle look.

"But they're for Drake." The blue triplet explained. 

Upon hearing his name, Drake was distracted away from the Darkwing Duck waffle iron he had been inspecting and came over. Dewey showed him the contents of the box.

"As the new Darkwing, you need these right?"

"Well, I do need smoke bombs to make my memorable signature entrances." Drake relented, picking one up to look it over. "And they are pretty expensive to buy online. And trying to make them at home hasn't been helping the relationship between me and my landlord." He sighed and placed it back in the box. "But, LP is right. I can't just take them." 

Dewey frowned incredulously. "Am I the only one who's figured out that taking them could be exactly what Scrooge wants?" 

Launchpad looked at Dewey as if the boy had just spoken an alien language.

"You think Mr. McDee wants us to steal?" He asked, trying to comprehend.

Dewey sighed dramatically. "Uncle Scrooge asked Drake to be here to help appraise the Darkwing Duck memorabilia. But, let's face it, you don't really know how to appraise anything."

Drake scowled, still sour from Miss Pinfeather's criticism from earlier. He crossed his arms, grumbling, "Yes, that was discussed." 

"So, what could be the only other reason Scrooge would ask you to be here? To get first dibs on all the choice, original Darkwing crime fighting gadgets!" 

Drake was hesitant, but optimism was seeping back into his smile. 

"Maybe, but…"

"You said you wanted to be the best Darkwing you could be. Well, if Starling's not around anymore to teach you, and you haven't found any inspiration in his home, might as well snatch up all his old gear you can, right?"

Drake blinked. It did make some sence.

"Guess it couldn't hurt to see what else Jim may have stashed away that could be useful." 

More boxes were opened, and the more apparent it became that Jim had done a small bit of hoarding of the things he might have needed for a big comeback as Darkwing. 

Spare costume accessories, compressed air cartridges for the gas gun, grappling hooks with rope, pre-autographed 8x10 glossy photos. So maybe Drake didn't need that last box, but the rest held everything a superhero starting fresh might need.

"Whoa! Check out this Hogly Davidson." Dewey jogged over to the sleek maroon touring bike leaning on the wall near the back of the garage, partially hidden under a tarp. His adult companions ogled it up and down.

"Twin cam 103 engine, triple exhaust pipes, full sized wind shield…" Drake grinned, impressed. "Looks like he was trying to get it to look like the Ratcatcher." 

"Like you did with yours. Except he didn't stick weird shaped plastic all over his." Launchpad noted. 

Drake winced with embarrassment. Long before landing the Darkwing movie deal, He had tried to modify his own sport motorcycle to look like the Ratcatcher. But custom built parts like the bill-shaped front scoop and oversized wing shaped tailpipes were too pricey, even online. 

He had tried to make his own from scrap plastic and metal gotten at the dump. At the time he had been proud of his handiwork, but the end result wasn't the most aerodynamic, nor was it very attractive. Still, he rode it around like that, faithful Darkwing fan that as he was. Though in retrospect he felt like a total fool. 

Next to the Hogly in the corner was a large, high pile of more boxes. Carefully, Drake moved them to peek inside. 

Oil cans, cleaning rags, assorted spare motorcycle parts, among other random bits and bolts thrown in haphazardly. Deep within the pile, towards the bottom was a box that brought out a whoop of excitement.

"Oh yeah, he really was trying to recreate the Ratcatcher." He showed Launchpad and Dewey the long tailpipes and beak-shaped scoop inside. 

"They look legit." Launchpad claimed, "He must have taken those from the set." He turned to explain to Dewey, "You know the Ratcatcher had to be repaired constantly over the run of the show. It got banged up just as much as Jim did."

Drake pushed the box aside and noticed something behind it peeking out from behind another tarp. He thought it was another spare beak scoop, but pulling the tarp back a few inches, he realized it was attached to something much larger. Something that made him jump back in shock.

"Uh, Launchpad, you remember they built a few extra Ratcatcher bikes for the same reason, right?"

The other two looked into the nook beneath the boxes to see the find in all its glory: a genuine, fully assembled, show-ready Ratcatcher.

With Launchpad's help, they moved all the boxes away and wheeled it to the center of the garage. 

"Ooh, let's give it a test ride!" Dewey exclaimed.

"Me? Ride Jim Starling's personal Ratcatcher?" Drake was hesitant with humility, "I, I couldn't! This is a sacred item!"

"Hello!" Dewey face-palmed "You are the new Darkwing Duck. Riding this motorcycle is your BIRTHRIGHT!" 

"He's right." Launchpad agreed. "You should try it out."

Drake looked the motorcycle over again, circling it, tracing a hand over its smooth leather seat, triplicate purple chrome tailpipes and wide, road gripping tires.

Deep down he knew he wanted to ride it. 

Carefully and with the utmost respect, he mounted the cycle. He could barely contain his excitement, knowing he was sitting in the same seat as his lifelong hero. He brushed his fingers over the numerous dials and button littering the console, knowing by heart what each one was for. His hands slid over the handlebars before resting around the throttle and clutch where they fit perfectly. 

"Whoa… oh wow…" he started bubbling over with fanboyish glee. "This. Is. So. Cool! I'm sitting on THE Ratcatcher!" 

Launchpad gave him a thumbs up.

"It looks good on you D.W." 

Dewey hopped into the sidecar. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's take this baby for a spin." 

Drake reached up and turned the ignition. The headlights flickered and the engine coughed momentarily before dying. 

He frowned with a defeated sigh, but he put on a smile to lift the boy's spirits. "Well, at least it looks cool." 

Upon seeing his two friends so dejected, Launchpad was not about to call it quits.

"Ah, all she needs is a little TLC, that's all." 

He contemplated the bike for a moment, hand on his chin as he looked it over with a look of deep concentration. 

He knocked on the gas tank, wiggled a few hoses, sniffed the air filter, hemming and hawing like a doctor examining a patient. 

After a moment of twirling his finger around inside the exhaust pipe and licking some soot off his finger, the pilot made his way over to a nearby toolbox and fished around until he pulled out a large wrench. 

He marched over to the side of the motorcycle, eyeing the battery box. He furrowed his brow and gave the component a solid hit with the broadside of the wrench. It made a terrible clanging noise but Launchpad remained unphased by it, looking to his companions with a grin.

"Try it now." He offered. 

Drake raised an eyebrow in confusion but took his friend's advice, turning the ignition once again.

The engine suddenly revved, loud and low like a dragon awoken from its slumber.

"Alright! You did it Launchpad! The good old McQuack whack does it again." Dewey danced with joy in his seat.

Drake was awestruck, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"It works! L.P. your wrench is amazing! ...er...I mean, you're a wrench...no...I mean...uh, I'm gonna stop talking now." He settled back down into the Ratcatcher's seat trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Well, now we have to ride it. Destiny says so." Dewey proclaimed. 

Looking to Launchpad and Dewey's eager faces, any lingering hesitation in Drake's mind vanished. He gripped the handlebars and gave the bike another rev. Smirking, with purpose and confidence in his eyes, he turned to his companions.

"Gentlemen, let's get...some helmets on." He declared, ignoring the surprised and annoyed expression Dewey was giving him.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Johnswine scrutinized the collection of Darkwing Duck action figures before him, carefully testing the limb articulation of one and the fluid movement of the karate chop action of another. He tested the feel of the fabric of the cape and hat of the largest doll between his fingers, going over every stitch like a jeweler inspecting a diamond.

"They're all authentic, first-run editions Mr. McDuck." He finally proclaimed. "Despite not being in the original packaging, they're in excellent condition. I'd say someone looking to complete a collection would pay a few hundred for each."

"Wonderful to hear, Mr. Johnswine." Scrooge complemented. 

"A fine selection indeed, but short of anything spectacular that would attract a big crowd." Miss Pinfeather commented, looking over the inventory she had recorded on her clipboard.

"I'm sure we'll get our big draw item, Priscilla. Launchpad and his friend haven't yet shown up with their finds." 

"Knowing them, they'll be showing up hailing the importance of Starling's childhood teddy bear."

"Now, now. I'm sure they'll come through." Scrooge chided. "They may be unconventional but Mallard and McQuack are…What in blazes is that ruinous racket?"

A droning sound that had started low, distant and easy to ignore had grown suddenly loud and obnoxious as it grew closer. 

Looking over to the house, a dust cloud was billowing out from around the now open garage. The aurally offensive object came nearer, allowing itself to be identified as a garishly decorated motorcycle ridden by two whooping and hollaring men and one whooping and hollaring great-nephew. Scrooge scowled.

Drake steared the Ratcatcher around the front lawn at breakneck speeds, pushing the old motorcycle and testing its limits. He banked around the landscaping, weaving in and out between a line of trees. He spun donuts a few times around a decorative fountain. 

Scrooge's moving men had brought wooden ramps in order to get carts and dollies over the stairs in the house, and Dewey had spotted one sitting alone at the edge of the property. It only took him pointing it out for Drake to aim straight for it at full throttle.

Workers scrambled to get out of the way as the bike careened towards, then hit the ramp head on. The Ratcatcher and its passengers launched into air, sailing over a supply trailer. It landed with a jangling thump on its tires and rolled along until it came to a stop in front of Pinfeather, Johnswine and a very cross looking Scrooge.

"Man, aw man! That was awesome!" Dewey cheered, pulling off his helmet.

Drake threw off his own, practically vibrating with excitement, hugging the motorcycle with giddy laughter.

"That was AMAZING!" He stroked the console "Oh, you beautiful beast. Guys, I think I'm in love." 

"Had fun, I see." Scrooge's grim tone flattened the joy out of the moment as one might pop a balloon.

The three looked up, grimacing with guilt at this sour face.

"And just what where you three doing on that contraption, besides raising all heck?"

"Uh, well, Mr. McDuck...we were….um…" Drake stammered, his brain failing to bring the right words to his beak.

"We were just testing out the Ratcatcher to make sure she was still working, Mr. McDee." Launchpad explained, still seated behind Drake.

"I see." Scrooge's demeanor didn't change. "And that test run needed to include tearing up the lawn and nearly crashing through a trailer?"

Drake winced, lowering his head in shame. Launchpad removed his helmet, revealing an equally repentant expression.

"I asked you here to help me ascertain the value of these items, not so you could go on some fanboy frolic of fantasy fulfillment." The older duck continued to scold. "What if that motorbike had gotten damaged? I'd be out a pretty penny, that's what." 

"Well, I think this is wonderful." Miss Pinfeather smiled, to everyone's surprise. "This Ratcatcher is fully functional, which means we can bump up the initial bidding price."

This got Scrooge's attention. "You don't say?" He inquired.

"Oh, yes. Collectors will bid considerably more for a working model. And not only television fans. Motorcycle enthusiasts too. We have a dual interest item on our hands."

"After that display, it certainly has my attention" Johnswine remarked, eyeing the Ratcatcher greedily.

"What would you want with the Ratcatcher?" Dewey asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, you're no Darkwing Duck fan." Drake added bitterly.

"You kidding me? This kind of nostalgia bait will draw all the 90s nerds to my store. The selfie potential alone's gonna double my foot traffic." 

"Looks like we've found our high draw item then." Scrooge smiled. "We'll make it the highlight of the auction."

"But Uncle Scrooge, you can't sell the Ratcatcher." Dewey hopped out of the sidecar after the elder duck. He caught Scrooge by the sleeve and whispered, "Weren't you saving certain special items for a certain special someone?"

Scrooge stared back at the boy, confused. "Eh, and who might that be?"

"For Darkwing Duck. You know, the real one."

Scrooge furrowed his brow.

"If Darkwing Duck, the real one or otherwise wants any of the items from this house, he's going to have to bid on them just like everyone else." 

Drake and Launchpad were crestfallen. 

"Heh, this real-life Darkwing sounds like a real loser if he needs handouts so he can fight crime." Johnswine scoffed. "Then again, without the iconic gadgets, this Darkwing Duck is just an overzealous cosplayer who likes to sneak up on muggers and yell metaphors about himself. Pathetic, right?" 

He laughed and sauntered off to finalize some paperwork with Scrooge. 

Launchpad saw Drake seething and stepped in to calm him down. 

"Ah, don't let him get to you, D.W." Launchpad encouraged. "We know that Darkwing was always more than his cool motorcycle or his handy weapons. He could get through anything with just his brains and sheer determination. And you can too."

Drake's demeanor shifted from angry to self-pitying. 

"Who am I kidding, L.P.?" He moaned. "He's right. I don't get any respect out there. The costume and terrorizing introduction speeches, witty as they are, aren't enough." He glared at Johnswine's retreating form, his face completely serious. "If I'm going to take on the criminals of this city and impress naysayers like him, I need to go full Darkwing."

[To be Continued]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way too long to write, but I'm actually glad I watched the season 2 finale before posting since it gave me a better idea of Drake's motivations. Poor guy just wants to be seen as a hero. Knowing this helped me zero in what to keep and what to cut from a chapter that was getting too long.


	3. His worth

The tents of the estate sale buzzed with activity as buyers, collectors, and knick-knack enthusiasts made their ways around the tables, looking over the merchandise and making occasional purchases. 

Huey helped Scrooge keep track of the outgoing inventory and incoming profits. Louie made small talk with various thrift store owners, learning the tricks of the resale industry. Dewey waited outside the auction tent, eyeing the hired hands carrying in the prized Darkwing Duck memorabilia. 

He spotted Launchpad and Drake arrive, the two older ducks intently looking over a pamphlet listing all the auction's items.

"Okay, the smoke bombs have a starting bid at $100. There's the triple lens magnifying glass for $250 and the offical Criminal Capture Cuffs starting at $175." Drake frowned, He was used to paying money like this for Darkwing stuff online, but he had never bought so many items all at once. "This is adding up to a lot. But, I'm sure it'll be worth it once I'm busting badguys with all the classic gear."

"You really think you'll be a better hero with all this stuff, DW?" Launchpad asked. 

"Of course, Darkwing's iconic weapons are an integral part of the brand. I don't even have a gas gun." He paused. "Well, I do, but it's the toy that shoots bubbles. 

But this is exactly why people like Johnswine haven't been showing me any respect. I'm not a whole hero without the gear."

Launchpad shrugged with uncertainty. "I guess you're right." 

Speaking of the devil, Johnswine approached the tent, smiling at the memorabilia being set out on display. 

"You guys here to bid too?" He asked with a scoff. "I'll give you a tip, don't even bother. I'm prepared to snag all the best Darkwing stuff for my store." He gestured to a large van behind him in the parking lot, marked with bright colors and the name of 'Bang-Zoom Comics and Toys' writ large on the side. "Of course you can always buy anything you had your eye on off of me after I've won them. I'm generous enough to work out a payment plan so you can afford my markup."

"Listen here, you diabolical fiend," Drake hissed. "We'll be bidding, and we won't be intimidated by the likes of you."

"You do realize you need money to win a bid, right?" The pig remarked snidely. He pulled a thick wad of bills from his pocket and waved it in front of them. 

"This is just what I have sitting in my wallet. I bet you don't even have this much in your bank account."

"Oh, you'd be surprised what he has in his bank account." Dewey boasted.

"Is that so? Guess this just got interesting. See you nerds at the auction block." Johnswine waved them off and retreated into the tent. 

Once he was out of sight Drake let out a loud groan, his expression devastated. 

"Arrg! What am I gonna do? I don't have the kind of money to compete with that." 

Dewey looked at him, genuinely surprised.

"But what about the money you got from staring in the Darkwing movie?" He asked. 

"I'm not exactly a big name actor" Drake admitted grudgingly. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I only got the role because I practically did it for free." He added under his breath with a hint of embarrassment.

"We should at least try to get some of the stuff we wanted." Suggested Launchpad. "Johnswine can't possibly bid on everything."

After registering for the auction they entered the tent, bidding paddles in hand. They watched eagerly as the Gas Gun was wheeled onto the stage. The auctioneer stood beside it and began the proceedings. 

"First item to the auction block: a prop Gas Gun used in the filming of Darkwing Duck. This is a working model made to shoot smoke bomb pellets using compressed air cartridges. The opening bid is set at three hundred dollars. Do I hear three hundred?"

"Three hundred!" Drake waved his paddle, smiling that he had gotten the first bid in.

"Three hundred for the man in the purple shirt." The caller announced. "Anyone for three hundred and ten?"

"Three ten!" Another bidder offered.

"Three hundred and ten to the man in glasses. What about three twenty?"

"Three twenty!" Drake returned. 

The auctioneer confirmed the bid. "Do I hear any bids for three thirty?" 

"Four hundred!" A voice yelled out. Everyone in the tent turned to see who had called the overpriced number. It was Johnswine, standing off to one side, paddle up, a satisfied look on his face.

The auctioneer looked startled a moment, then shook it off.

"Uh, okay. Four hundred to the man in the Super Pig baseball cap. Is there anyone looking to bid four hundred and ten?"

"Four hundred and ten!" Drake tried to reclaim his hold on the bidding.

"Five hundred!" Johnswine knocked him off again.

"Five, uh five fifty!" Drake floundered, trying to keep up.

"Six hundred!" The pig-man bid without batting an eye.

Drake considered another counter to Johnswine's bid, but he had quickly found himself already hitting numbers well above his planned budget and was forced to drop any further pursuit of the item.

"Sold! For six hundred dollars." The auctioneer banged his gavel making it official. 

Launchpad put a sympathetic hand on Drake's slumped shoulder.

"It's okay. We'll get the next one." He assured. 

But Johnswine soon proved he was aiming to corner the market in Darkwing Duck memorabilia.

He used the same underhanded tactic for the Criminal Capture Cuffs, the tri-lense magnifying glass and the metal brimmed Battle Hat. With every bid Johnswine drove up the price by ridiculous amounts, dissuading any other bidders and deftly outbiding everyone on the majority of the lots, acquiring a huge pile of Darkwing paraphenalia.

Drake was trying his best to hide his annoyance. Not only was Johnswine flaunting his deep pockets, he was even inflating the bids on items he didn't want to buy, to drain the pockets of potential rivals on other bids and just to be a jerk.

The auctioneer announced they'd be taking a short break and the trio stepped to the sidelines.

"Okay guys, huddle up." Drake ordered with a serious scowl. Launchpad and Dewey locked arms with him and leaned in close. 

"Johnswine is dominating this auction. If we're going to walk away with anything we're going to have to refocus our efforts onto one big ticket item. The Ratcatcher is now our top priority. The question is, how do we make sure we can outbid him?"

"Maybe he's almost out of money since he spent so much on all that other stuff we wanted." Launchpad suggested, though it wasn't as helpful as he probably thought.

"I'm afraid that's wishful thinking L.P. We know the Ratcatcher is something he really wants. He must have put some big money aside for it."

Launchpad looked thoughtful for a moment.  
"Oh. Well, I guess I can contribute a few of my paychecks to the cause."

Drake's jaw dropped.

"What? No, Launchpad, I wasn't asking for… you don't need to…" He stammered in protest, but his friend merely waved him off.

"Don't try to stop me, D.W. That Ratcatcher belongs in the hands of Darkwing Duck, not gathering dust in Johnswine's showroom."

"Launchpad's right." Dewey agreed. "You can count on me donating too." 

It took Drake a moment to absorb the reality of his friends' generous offer. His face spread into a wide, grateful smile.

"Launchpad, I don't know what to say. This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me." 

"Ah, It's nothing, buddy." Launchpad shrugged humbly. "Just want to make sure something here ends up with its rightful owner."

===========

The security detail Scrooge had hired to oversee the estate sale had the responsibility to not only ensure the safety of the attending public but also safeguard the money they were spending.

The guard on duty that afternoon thought this would be an easy assignment; stand around the security tent, keep an eye on the delivery of locked cash boxes to said tent once an hour when the cash registers were emptied, then watch videos on his phone in between deliveries while said money sat in a sealed safe in the back of the tent.

It would have been easy, if some unseen assailant hadn't snuck inside while he was opening the safe and knocked him unconscious with a swift blow to the back of the head.

The intruder smiled at his nefarious handiwork. Two guards, the one who had delivered the cash box to the tent and one guarding the safe, were both sprawled on the ground, out of the way as he rummaged through the safe.

There was an impressive amount of money inside, as well as receipts featuring bank account and credit card numbers. 

And this was only the money for his every day crap. 

The big stuff- his Darkwing stuff, was still being auctioned off in the next tent over for what sounded like a small fortune.

He snarled, anger boiling over. 

"So, I'm only worth something when I'm dead, am I? Such is the life of an artist I suppose."

He tucked another cash box into his sack, then emptied anything else left in the safe into it as well. Technically this was his money anyway. They got it from selling his belongings. A long career in show business, only to be ignored and dismissed, he at least deserved a cut of the profits from those vultures trying to cash in on what he left behind.

"I guess I should be thankful old Scrooge took over the legwork of getting rid of all that junk for me. Sure beats having to deal with people at a yard sale." 

He slung his sack over his shoulder and peeked around to make sure the coast was clear. He spotted the auction tent, the sounds of bidding still going strong. He ducked for cover as some men passed by loading props he recognized from his old TV show into a van labeled, Bang-Zoom Comics and Toys.

He smiled deviously, "Though, now that I think about it, there are a few things I couldn't dare part with."

===================

Drake, Launchpad and Dewey returned to the auction tent with a plan at the ready. 

"Okay, the opening bid for the Ratcatcher is set at five thousand dollars. All together our pooled funds amount to eleven thousand dollars." Drake recounted, looking over the auction brochure.

"Eleven thousand twenty five dollars and thirteen cents." Dewey corrected, a grin on his face as if expected that additional contribution from his saved up allowance would be the amount to give them the winning bid. 

Drake sighed apprehensively, "We've got some wiggle room here, but Johnswine is going to be aggressive." 

The trio looked to where Johnswine was standing at the other side of the tent. The pig was looking rather smug and it was clear he had no worries about loosing any bids. Drake frowned with irritation, finding his resolve.

"We're just going to have to get aggressive too."

They took their seats and their paddles as the auctioneer returned to the podium.

"Our next item: lot 31- The Ratcatcher motorcycle. This working model was used in the filming of Darkwing Duck, ridden and owned by Jim Starling. 107 engine and fiberglass side car. Opening bid is $5,000. Do I hear 5,000?"

Johnswine lifted his paddle.

"6,000!"

The auctioneer rolled his eyes, obviously weary of Johnswine's repeated song and dance.

"$7,000!" Drake bid. He glared in Johnswine's direction to make sure the pig caught the hint he would not be backing down easily.

Johnswine lifted a brow, looking at Drake as if he were only a minor annoyance. He waved his paddle.

"$8,000!" 

Other bidders looked amongst themselves, once again being outbid by leaps and bounds.

"9,000!"  
Drake aimed to keep up no matter what, even as the limit to his budget was fast approaching.

"$10,000!"  
Johnswine glowered at Drake, obviously he had expected the duck to fold by now.

"$11,000"  
Drake shouted confidently. Maybe Johnswine was ready to crack. The rival bidder had paused and looked to be carefully considering his next move.

"Eleven thousand," repeated the auctioneer, "do I hear twelve?"

Johnswine lifted his paddle with a smirk directly at Drake.

"Fifteen thousand!"

A few people in the crowd gasped. Shocked at such a leap in bidding.

Drake dropped into his seat, defeated. He barely had the time to feel disappointed before he heard Dewey jump up beside him and shout,

"Nineteen thousand!"

Both he and Launchpad stared at the boy in disbelief.

"Uh, Dewey, do you have an extra eight thousand dollars you've been keeping secret from us?" Launchpad asked.

"Nope." The blue triplet shook his head. "But Johnswine doesn't know that. Maybe I can shake him off the bid."

The two adults fretted, then heard Johnswine again shout, "Twenty thousand!"

"Oh, still playing, huh? Let's see how deep your pockets really are."

Dewey aimed to raise his paddle again, but this time Drake grabbed him and with Launchpad's help, kept the boy in his chair.

"That's not how it works. We can't outbid him with money we don't have." Drake explained.

"Oh. Right." The boy conceded, the reality check sinking in.

"Going once, going twice...Sold for twenty thousand dollars!" The auctioneer announced.

Johnswine fist-pumped in celebration. Drake could only let out a quiet groan.

"That's it. We're done. Might as well leave now and spare our dignity." He got up from his seat a trudged towards the exit.

Launchpad and Dewey ran after him.

"But what about getting the gear you need to be a hero?" Dewey asked.

"There's nothing left. Johnswine snatched up all the good stuff I could have used." He rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "He's probably laughing at my failure to beat him right now."

"Aw, come on buddy. I don't think he did all that to humiliate you personally." Launchpad said.

"Told you I'd win the whole shebang, losers." Johnswine bragged as he passed them leaving the tent.

"Joke's on you, jerk! I got you to spend eight thousand more than you needed to. This guy only had Eleven thousand dollars." Dewey shouted, causing Drake to blanch with embarrassment.

"What, in total? Ha, I knew you didn't stand a chance. What an amateur!" Johnswine laughed.

"You may have had the money to buy all the memorabilia and the toys and TV show props," Launchpad said, frowning at the pigman, "but you can never put a price on the message of righteousness, justice and perseverance that Darkwing Duck taught us all."

Johnswine chortled heartily, "Man, you should write greeting cards with that kind of sappy sentiment." He snorted, "But seriously, I put a price on nostalgia for a living and I make an impressive amount of cash exploiting fanboys like you two every day. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a motorcycle to claim." 

He sauntered off with an air of superiority that made Drake glower,

"Hmph, I bet you he was one of those kids who never took his toys out of their packaging to play with."

"Everyone, please just calm down. We're handling this as best we can."

The trio turned to the sound of commotion that had sprung up. Off near the main tent a small crowd had formed around a security guard. As the guard tried to keep the crowd at bay, Scrooge approached to investigate.

"What in blazes is all this hubbub about?" He asked with annoyance. 

"My stuff was stolen." An irate woman declared.

"Mine too!" Shouted a man.

Several others in the crowd complained about items that they had purchased from the auction or estate sale that had been taken from thier cars or off thier person when they hadn't been paying attention.

"Settle down, all of ye." Scrooge demanded. "There's no need to for things to get out of hand." He spotted another guard running up to the group. "Look, here comes another guard to help." 

The second guard stopped in front of Scrooge and caught his breath before sheepishly saying,

"Uh, Mr. McDuck, there was an, um...incident by the money tent."

Scrooge's expression darkened.

"What sort of incident?"

The guard took the older duck aside and delivered the bad news discreetly. A move immediately countered by Scrooge's outraged yelling ringing through the open air.

"ALL THE MONEY WAS STOLEN?!"

"Wow, I understand the money, but who'd want to steal a bunch of junk that used to belong to a washed up actor?" Asked Louie, observing the unfurling choas.

"An overzealous fan who didn't want to bother with Johnswine's lack of auction etiquette, I bet." Dewey bitterly postured the guess.

"No way, a true fan of Darkwing Duck would never steal." Launchpad protested.

"It's more likely just a random thief." Huey shook his head.

"Yeah, because the only fans that are that dedicated to Jim Starling are standing right here." Louie gestured towards Launchpad and the open air where Drake had just been standing.

"Wait, where's Drake?" Dewey asked.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" A voice called out from a puff of smoke that appeared next to the irate crowd.

"I am the creased corner that lowers the value of your first edition comic."

Heads turned to the caped figure appearing from the thick blue plume, arms wide in a grandiose manner.

"I...am DARKWING DUCK!"

(To Be Continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a long time but a new chapter is finally here. A new year brings new challenges, including caring for my newborn son, So getting time to sit and write is rare. But I do plan to continue writing whenever I can. Hope that I can make it worth the wait.
> 
> Also, if I got the auction scene wrong fact-wise, forgive me. Researching how much a motorcycle that used to be on TV for a mildly popular show should cost wasn't easy.


	4. His legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thief strikes and Darkwing faces his toughest challenge to date.

"What is this, some kind of stupid promotional stunt?" Asked Johnswine, scoffing.

Scrooge let out an aggravated sigh.  
"No. Sadly it's not."

"Never fear, good citizens," Darkwing announced. "For I have arrived to pacify this peril of purloined personal property." 

The people around only stared at him with looks of confusion. This however, didn't stop him from strutting to the center of the crowd to stand alongside the guards. 

"Tell me officer, can you describe the perpetrator?" He asked.

The bewildered guard looked to Mr. McDuck, who only nodded an affirmative to comply with the stranger in purple.

"Sorry," the guard shrugged, rubbing his sore head. "It happened so fast. All I saw was some blur of yellow and black… like a rotten banana… smelled like one too."

"Hmmm… and what other items were stolen?"

"A crowbar and a chainsaw went missing from the tool inventory." A salesman reported.

"I bought a box of smoke bombs that got stolen from my car." A man wearing a camouflage jacket barked angrily.

"They stole a katana and nunchucks I had just paid for." another collector complained.

Darkwing contemplated this information.

"So it seems our 'Rotten Banana' is after some dangerous things." He rubbed his chin. "But, why from here?"

"Oh, come on. Are you really going to let this kook investigate?" Johnswine interrupted, still eyeing the masked mallard suspiciously.

Darkwing held back the rising tide of annoyance he was feeling and addressed Johnswine as authoritatively as possible.

"Good sir, I am a professional crime fighter." He turned to the crowd, projecting confidence to deliver an inspiring speech. "Rest assured that Darkwing Duck will work tirelessly to recover your stolen items and bring this fiendish felon to justice."

"Ha. Then I feel sorry for these poor saps. They're never gonna see their stuff again." Johnswine snorted. "Glad I hired a personal entourage to load and guard my purchases."

The aforementioned entourage, currently distracted trying to figure out how to attach a trailer hitch to the rear bumper, had failed to notice that a dark figure had just hopped into the front seat of their employer's van right behind their backs. 

This however, was noticed by Louie, who tugged on Johnswine's pant leg.

"Maybe you should have double checked their credentials." The green duckling suggested, looking off towards the parking area where the van suddenly roared to life and peeled away with a ferocity that let everyone know the thief had the gas pedal pressed to the floor. Johnswine's men fruitlessly shouting at the mystery driver or feebly running after it. 

"What!? My stuff!!!" Johnswine shouted, outraged and aghast.

Witnessing this crime in progress, Darkwing knew this was a time for action, and a perfect opportunity to finally shut Johnswine up and show him what a real hero looked like.

Sitting on the pull-along trailer that Johnswine's men had been blundering with was the Ratcatcher. It was as if the iconic motorcycle itself was just waiting for this moment for him to spring into action.

"Stop, villain!" He declared, running to the Ratcatcher and leaping onto its seat with a dramatic swoosh of his cape.

Then he noticed the workers staring at him with suspicion and annoyance.

"Uhh… I'm just going to borrow this." He told them meekly before revving the engine and zooming off, following in the van's wake.

He had spotted the van turning a corner at the end of the property line in the distance and gave chase. The thief had a good head start but the Ratcatcher was fast despite its age. He sped around the bend and kept the vehicle in his sights even as it drove onto a busy city street headed for downtown.

The van careened wildly through traffic. Cars stopped short or veered off the road to avoid colliding with it. Darkwing kept up, dodging in between and around vehicles, zipping effortlessly from lane to lane. He worked to close the gap between himself and the thief, though he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do once he caught up with them. Still, he knew the longer this driver was on the road, the more likely it was to cause an accident.

He revved harder, pushing the Ratcatcher as fast as it would go. The van sideswiped a commuter's car causing it to spin into Darkwing's path. Jerking back on the handlebars, he pulled the Ratcatcher into a wheelie and landed the front tire on the hood of the car, using it as a ramp to launch the bike through the air. 

The exhilarating moment ended with him sailing over several cars and landing even closer to the van than before. So close he could catch the driver's eye glaring at him from the side mirror.

================  
That phony Darkwing was good, he was forced to admit. The poser had manged to tail him this far for this long and was now closing the gap between them. It made the bile rise in his throat that this wannabe thought he was going to play the hero today.

In the side mirror he could see the ridiculous, overconfident smirk on that unfairly handsome face. Oh, how he'd love to see that face run beneath a tire at high speed.

On the passenger seat of the van he saw the box of smoke bombs he had reclaimed from the estate sale and decided that sacrificing a few was worth a clean getaway. Plus, if the would-be Darkwing happened to crash and lose those movie star good looks to a bad case of road rash, all the better. 

==============

Darkwing grinned, he almost had the villain in his grasp. He was closing in, only a few feet more to go. He envisioned his next moves: pull up along the side of the van, reach in through the conveniently open window, punch the perpetrator out, grab the wheel and guide the van to a safe stop. Then, bask in the gratitude of the thankful patrons whose stolen items were now recovered. The kind of action movie ending that would surely get him on the 11 o'clock news and show jerks like Johnswine that Darkwing Duck was a legit hero and even better than Gizmoduck. 

He was right next to the van now, coming up towards the window. He reached out his arm for it…

A small round object flew out at him and smacked the Ratcatcher's windshield, exploding into a cloud of purple smoke that overtook his field of vision. He released the throttle, trying in vain to wave the fog away, losing pace with the van in the process.

Several more smoke bombs flung out of the van, billowing out into an intersection, obscuring Darkwing's view of the van and the road ahead and worse, obscuring the view of oncoming traffic to everyone.

Within the thick mist he could hear blaring car horns and the skidding of tires. He then heard a villainous laughter rising amid the smoke. That voice sounded so horrifyingly familiar, like something from a half forgotten nightmare. A paralyzing chill surged down his spine, even as the laughter grew distant as the van sped further away.

Everything in his brain was grinding to a halt, trying to process if he had really heard what he thought he had.

A large box truck burst into his limited field of vision and he swerved to avoid it, only to overcorrect and tip too far to one side, causing the Ratcatcher to fall over and to come skidding to a stop on it's sidecar.

There was a loud crunch of metal and shattering of glass he recognized as the truck he had narrowly avoided hitting another vehicle.

The cloud was now dissipating and he could make out one last glimpse of the van turning off the main road. But behind him he saw the truck, crashed into a light pole, now knocked over. A smaller car was crumpled next to it. Seemingly it had struck the van and was pushed aside to now lay against it, the driver's side blocked.

Reality returning to him, Darkwing knew he had a choice: continue to pursue the thief or stop and help the potentially injured.

The truck was mostly unharmed save for a large, ugly gash across the side where the other car hid t-boned, then slid across it. The truck driver had gotten out and was standing safely several feet away, but looked rather panicked watching the other car. There were people milling about on the sidewalk or coming out of their abruptly stopped cars to survey the damage. Those bystanders appeared equally troubled.

The streetlight that had been uprooted was now sparking dangerously close to a growing puddle of something leaking out from the underside of the truck and trickling towards the other car, whose driver hadn't emerged from their vehicle.

Knowing a bad situation was impending, Darkwing rushed into action. He ran towards the crash and met the distressing sight of an unconscious body slumped over the steering wheel in the small, smashed Sadan. 

He tried opening the doors but found them to either be jammed shut or locked. He knocked on the window and shouted to the inert woman inside.

"Ma'am! Can you hear me? Are you alright?" 

He swallowed back his rising anxiety when she did not respond. 

To worsen matters, he noticed a sharp wailing coming from the back seat, that upon inspection was being made by a child, no older than a year strapped into a car seat. 

The baby girl appeared unharmed but obviously freaked out by the crash and the fact that Mommy wasn't answering her cries.

The puddle, which by the smell was definitely gasoline, was only inches from the felled lightpole's sparking, broken bulb.

If Gizmoduck were in this position, he'd have a plethora of gadgets in his arsenal to handle this situation.

Darkwing didn't even have a heavy rock.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Come on, think. You can do this." 

He ignored his pounding heart even as it echoed in his ears. "This may seem impossible, but Darkwing Duck defies the impossible."

He took a deep breath and focused on what needed to be done. "He can get through anything with only his brains and sheer determination."

Without a second thought, not to the potential pain, not the risk to his own well being, he pulled back his arm and punched the window, repeatedly. 

“I can get through anything with sheer determination!”

He thrust his fist against the glass mightily, cracks eventually forming, encouraging him to continue despite the shock blazing from his knuckles up his arm.

When he felt that the glass was about to give, he turned and gave a solid blow to the center of the spiderweb of cracks with his elbow and the window shattered. He held onto his sigh of relief as he reached through and unlocked the door. 

Carefully and quickly he examined the woman's unconscious body and gently lifted her out of the car. A brave bystander rushed over to help carry her towards the safety of the sidewalk.

With the mother safe, Darkwing crawled back into the car to unlatch the crying toddler from her carseat.

"It's okay sweetie. I've got you." He hushed, gently picking her up into his arms. She gripped her little arms around his neck, still crying, but softer now.

The tender moment was abruptly ended with the fwoosh of the gasoline puddle igniting.

Darkwing jumped from the car, the child still in his embrace shielded from the heat by his cape, and sprinted to the sidewalk. People ran further away to escape the flames as they engulfed the car. 

The police and an ambulance finally arrived and got to work securing the area. A fire truck pulled up only minutes later to take on the blazing wreckage. The crash victim was taken by the paramedics, strapped to a gurney and stabilized. Darkwing cautiously approached her once he was informed that she had regained consciousness.

She peeked at him through swollen eyes, turning her head as much as the stabilizing collar would allow. She smiled softly when she saw her child in his arms, safe and sound.

“Quinnie, baby you’re okay.” she beamed. “Thank you so much for saving her.”

Her daughter cooed happily, reaching out with one hand and pulling on a tuft of Darkwing’s cheek feathers with the other.

“It was nothing.” he said, grimacing as his face was yanked again. “All in a day's work for a hero like me.”

A police officer took the child from his hands just as a limo impacted a mailbox on the curb behind them.

“Hey, D.W.!” Launchpad called out through the window. He looked around as he got out, marveling at the wreckage with an impressed grin. “Wow, this is a mighty fine crash.”

Scrooge hopped out of the limo, followed by the triplets.

“Aww man, we missed some cool rescue didn’t we?” Dewey moaned.

“Mr. McDuck!” Johnswine shouted, getting out from the passenger side of Miss Pinfeather’s car as it parked behind the limo. He slammed the door behind him, stomping with obvious displeasure. He took one look around at the chaos and his expression soured even more. 

“I see that not only was my van not recovered, but that crazy quack ruined my Ratcatcher on top of everything else.”

“The Ratcatcher!” Darkwing exclaimed. He had forgotten all about the motorcycle now lying in the street. He and Launchpad ran over to it and picked it up off its side.

The headlight had cracked and the paint had been scraped all along the side of the bike and sidecar where it had dragged along the ground. Darkwing winced at the sight. 

“Ah, it’s not that bad.” Launchpad said encouragingly, only for the sidecar to suddenly drop off, hitting the ground with a clang.

“Mr. Johnswine, as you can see, there were extenuating circumstances involved.” Scrooge tried to calm the larger man down. “I’m sure the police will be able to track down your property…”

“The police should arrest him!” He pointed at Darkwing. “This guy is responsible for ALL this!” 

Darkwing looked Johnswine right in the face, his arms akimbo and his chest puffed out to look as “Daring duck of mystery” as possible.

“Now sir, I apologize for the motorcycle’s damage and allowing the villian to get away. But there were innocent civilians…”

"I don't want apologies, you wierdo." The pigman seethed. He turned back the Scrooge. "You own the rights to the Darkwing Duck franchise, can't you do something about him?"

Scrooge paused, looked at Darkwing, then rubbed his chin, ruminating on this fact.

"I do own everything Darkwing Duck…" he mulled.

Darkwing's chest deflated. How much legality did Scrooge have over him? Could he slam him with a cease and desist order? Could he sue? The hero now felt himself getting very nervous.

Scrooge shook his head, deciding to ponder this information at another time. 

"Ah well, for now I suppose you want to discuss restitutions. You didn't happen to purchase any of the onsite insurance after the auction, did ye?" The older duck calmly escorted the pig off to the side of the road as they talked.

Darkwing walked slowly towards the limo, shoulders slumped, hat hanging low over his eyes. Despite the flashing lights and noisy commotion going on around him, the world felt eerily distant.

"Hey, don't you worry about Johnswine, D.W." Launchpad assured as he followed. "Mr. McDee'll straighten things out."

"You know, they called Gizmoduck a menace at first too." Huey noted.

He ignored them, leaning silently against the limo.

"Let the haters hate." Dewey advised. "We know you're awesome."

"Yeah, you're a real hero." Added Huey.

"You're trying not to cry, aren't you?" Louie guessed by the shuttering breaths the masked mallard was swallowing back.

Launchpad opened the door, letting his friend slip into the backseat. He followed, closing the door behind them to have some privacy.

Darkwing leaned back into the plush leather seat ridgeley, facing forward but eyes unfocused. He was still desperately clinging to his composure in heavy, gulping breaths.

"It's okay, buddy. Just you and me in here." He said comfortingly.

"I can't...I...I…" the hero stammered, suddenly looking pale. "I'm think I'm gonna be sick."

Without taking his eyes off Darkwing, in a swift and practiced motion, Launchpad pulled a white paper bag from the pocket of the seat in front of him and handed it over.

Darkwing took it, momentarily distracted from his inner turmoil by the notion that for whatever reason, Launchpad kept air-sick bags in the back seat of his limo.

Launchpad waited patiently for Darkwing as he hyperventilated into the bag, an unglamorous image of the hero with his head between his knees.

"You okay?" The larger duck finally asked, placing a supportive hand on his back.

"This is really bad, LP." Darkwing moaned, head in his hands.

"Look, don't let Johnswine's insults get to you. Just because you crashed the Ratcatcher and didn't catch the bad guy doesn't mean you're not a good hero." Launchpad told him, smiling.

Darkwing didn't smile back.

"It's not Johnswine I'm worried about." He explained, looking up with worry in his expression. "It's Mr. McDuck. He saw all the damage I caused. What if he decides I'm a screw-up? He could make sure I never wear this costume again." He sat up, pulling on his spandex top for emphasis.

"I don't want to lose this, Launchpad. These past few weeks being Darkwing for real, it's the happiest I've been in a really long time. I feel like what I'm doing really matters. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't…" he cut himself off as he choked on the thought. He buried his face in his hands again with a groan. 

Launchpad gave his back a few pats.

"I wouldn't worry about that. Mr. McDee isn't that kind of a person. Heck, I've crashed all sorts of his things, more times than I can count, and he's always taken it in stride. He won't stop you from being Darkwing over this little hiccup, you'll see."

"Are you sure?" His friend looked up again, still with a forlorn expression. He took off his hat the fiddled with it in his hands. "Because if I lose this… I lose everything." 

There was a short pause.

"You'll still have me." Launchpad easily suggested. 

Drake shook his head. 

"No. You'd move on to better things. You don't want to hang out with some average Joe who couldn't cut it as a superhero. You wouldn't want just...me." 

Launchpad blinked a few times, processing what Drake had said, and coming to a sad conclusion.

"Wait. You think I only want to hang out with you because you're Darkwing?" He asked.

"Well, yeah." The smaller duck frowned. "Outside of Darkwing Duck, what else do we have?"

It took Launchpad less than a heartbeat to think of an answer.

"Well, there's that you're a nice person. You always tip the barista at Starducks. Well, unless they get your order wrong. You're really good at mini golf. And knitting. And the kids like you. Dewey thinks its awesome that you've memorized all the songs from all three Musical High School movies. And you're way better at video games than I am. And you taught yourself how to dislocate your shoulders to escape from being tied up…"

"Launchpad, you're rambling." Drake interrupted.

"Buh? Oh." He shook his head and refocused. "My point is, Darkwing Duck might be the thing that brought us together, but it's not the only reason I want to be your friend."

Drake took his words in with a pregnant pause. Slowly he smiled.

"Launchpad, I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you." He sat up straight, looking him in the eyes. "That's why I was so focused on what I could learn from Jim and getting those gadgets. I want to be the best Darkwing I can be. I want to be the kind of hero we grew up watching. The kind of hero you already see me as." 

He grinned at this, but the smile was short lived.

"But I'm not like Jim." He sighed. "And I feel like I'm letting him down. This is going to sound crazy, but when the thief got away, it almost sounded like Jim was laughing at me from beyond the grave. Reminding me that I'll never be the Darkwing he was."

Launchpad saw the self-doubt in his friend's eyes and thought over his words before answering with a smile.

"But, you are like the Darkwing I grew up watching. He had his crashes and mess-ups too. Sure, he caught the bad guy in the end, but not before having a few explosions and punches to the face along the way. Isn't that what inspired you the most? That despite all the set-backs he kept on going until he saved the day?"

A spark flashed I'm Drake's eyes. "Yeah, it did. But," he lowered his head. "I didn't catch the bad guy. He got away with everything he stole." 

"Eh, You'll catch that Bad Banana eventually, D.W." said Launchpad. "You still saved the day for those people out there, though." He pointed out the window. "You saved lives. That's way more important than stuff. Even Darkwing stuff."

Darkwing grinned, his spirits and confidence lifting.

"You're right. I did save those people." He puffed out his chest.

"And you did it without any fancy gadgets or weapons." Launchpad added.

"Yeah. I don't need any weapons." He held up his clenched fist, the knuckles starting to show bruising. "I am a weapon."

Launchpad opened the door and Darkwing swooped out back into the sunlight. He stood there proudly for a moment, only to flinch when someone shouted,

"Hey! There he is!" 

Across the street, the truck driver was pointing at him. Darkwing's stomach dropped with a feeling that he was about to be in trouble again.

"He's the one who saved that lady and her kid." The driver explained. The other pedestrians and bystanders started to applaud. 

Darkwing took it all in, his head held high, chest puffed out with pride. It was all such a wonderful feeling. A feeling soured by the vengeful glare Johnswine was giving him from the sidewalk.

Launchpad caught Darkwing scowling and placed his arm around the hero's shoulders.

"You know what'll get your mind off of him? Lunch." He ignored his friend's confused look and eagerly added, "I know just the place we can go."

[To be concluded]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad I could get this out before the new season dropped in April. 
> 
> Everybody stay safe and healthy!


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake and Launchpad celebrate a victory, while others have plans for them, both a good and bad.

"Welcome to Owlbees! How many are in your party?" The server greeted cheerily.

Launchpad returned the smile. "Three ma'am." He leaned in a bit closer, as if to relay top secret information. "And could we request a very specific booth?"

It only took a few moments for the server to escort Launchpad, Drake and Dewey to a booth near the back of the restaurant. Launchpad thanked the woman as they sat next to a wall decorated from eye level to ceiling with autographed photos, replica props, costume pieces and framed magazine clippings extolling the heart-pounding excitement of the Darkwing Duck TV show. 

"Man, I can't wait until I'm famous enough to have my stuff on the wall of a family themed restaurant." Dewey said wistfully. 

Drake scanned the wall; a gas gun replica here, a toy Ratcatcher there, a foam bust wearing the iconic mask and hat. It reminded him of his fruitless search through Starling's estate for an object or two that would form some meaningful connection between hero and successor.

"You know what?" he mused, "I think I'd rather be remembered by the things I do than what things I leave behind."

"So, you wouldn't want an action figure or a coffee mug with your face on it?" The boy asked.

"Oh, no. I'd LOVE that." He quickly corrected. "But Launchpad was right, I remember Jim most from what he did as Darkwing and that's going to stay with me forever, even if I never collected any of his merchandise or toured his home or drove his motorcycle. 

"The best way I can honor Jim, isn't by learning everything about him and copying him exactly, but by being the kind of Darkwing everyone can look up to, like the way he inspired me. And he did that, not by being the perfect hero but by getting back up again and doing the right thing even in the toughest of situations."

"A hero who pulls himself up by his bootstraps and fights tough and fair. Sounds like the kind of hero I could get behind." A Scottish brogue interrupted.

The three looked over as Scrooge approached their table.

"Oh, so you are a fan of Darkwing Duck, Mr. McDee?" Asked Launchpad, brightly.

"What? Ach, no. I wouldn't waste my time watching such drivel." The old duck shook his head as he sat down in the vacant spot next to Drake in the booth.

Scrooge removed a paper from his pocket and adjusted his spectacles.

"I just thought you boys would want to know the outcome of that little fiasco at the estate sale. Johnswine's insurance will thankfully be covering the cost of the theft of his van and all property contained therein. But the damages to the Ratcatcher were a sore sticking point with him. I was able talk him down from a full refund to the cost of repairs as well as throwing in a box of spare parts found in the garage."

Drake frowned. A naive, optimistic part of him had fantasized that Johnswine would simply give the damaged Ratcatcher back to Scrooge who would then let him buy it at a reduced price and he and Launchpad would restore it together and make it even better than before. But such happy endings only happened on television, he knew.

Scrooge continued, "Add that to everything else that got stolen and today was a total bust." He sighed. "Every time I invest in something Darkwing Duck related, I end up  _ loosing _ money." 

Drake's jaw tensed, a pit forming in his stomach over where this conversation may be going.

"But there is one silver lining." The old duck added. "Seeing how much money Johnswine was willing to spend on that old motorbike made me wonder how much a newer one would go for. So, I checked the movie studio and found the Ratcatcher they were using for the Darkwing movie was still in storage. I plan to sell it to make back some of the losses."

The three others stared at Scrooge, the same question running through their heads.

"Uh, how much money were you thinking of selling it for Uncle Scrooge?" Asked Dewey.

"Ah, I'm no expert in what Darkwing merchandise goes for. But if you happen to know any fans looking to buy, I think I'd be open to take an offer." 

"What about eleven thousand dollars?" Drake cautiously offered. He smiled as hopefully as possible.

Scrooge looked him over, seemingly considering the offer.

After the older duck took a few seconds longer than Dewey could handle, the nephew shouted, "What about eleven thousand, twenty five dollars and thirteen cents!?"

Scrooges looked up from his pondering with a grin.

"Alright then, it's yours." He conceded.

Launchpad and Drake whooped joyously and hugged each other briefly across the table. They babbled gleefully to one another.

"We have a Ratcatcher!"

"Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!"

Scrooge stretched his arms and excused himself from the table. "Well, I for one am glad to have all this Darkwing nonsense behind me." 

He turned to leave, but paused, giving Drake one last hard look. 

"Eh, Mallard. If I'm not mistaken, you were cast to play Darkwing in that ill-fated film, weren't you?"

That dreadful sinking feeling returned tenfold to Drake as he could see in the trillionaire's eyes the gears of a thought turning. Was this when Scrooge would make the connection and finally call him out as a failure of a hero who should hang up his cape for good?

"Uh...y...yes sir." He answered hesitantly.

"I never did get around to telling you how much I enjoyed your performance that day on the lot." Scrooge told him.

Drake realized his beak had dropped open. He closed it and shook his head in disbelief. 

"Oh? Uh. Thank you, Mr. McDuck." He said gratefully.

"Now, your performance during the Moon invasion could have used a bit of work. But, the performance you gave today was one of your finest." 

At that moment Drake was speechless. He certainly wasn't expecting praise at this level. Not that he didn't like it.

"I'll be looking forward to more performances like it in the future." Scrooge concluded with a tip of his hat. 

"Y, yes, Mr. McDuck. I won't disappoint you, sir." Drake stood up straight, trying to look serious despite that he was now grinning like an idiot.

"Enjoy your meal, lads." Scrooge twirled his cane and walked away. 

As soon as Scrooge was out of sight Drake sat back down silently, but still smiling so hard his beak hurt. Launchpad smiled back at him.

"See, I told you Mr. McDee would be cool about everything."

"Do you know what this means, Launchpad?" Drake asked excitedly. "I get to keep being Darkwing, I have a Ratcatcher to do it with and I've got a successful rescue under my belt to build up my street cred." He stood on the bench seat and put one foot on the table, striking a triumphant pose.

"Before you know it, my reputation will be known far and wide. And doubters like Johnswine are going to regret ever badmouthing  _ this _ Darkwing Duck."

"Yeah, nothing says revenge better than rubbing your success in someone else's face." Dewey agreed, also standing up on his seat, arm extended for a high five which Drake reciprocated wholeheartedly.

"This calls for a celebration." Launchpad cheered, also getting to his feet. "Fajitas are on me!" 

"Ahem!" A waitress cleared her throat loudly to get their attention. They realized she was giving them a death glare for standing on the furniture and quickly returned to their seats.

"I take it you're ready to order?" She asked, hiding her contempt.

Launchpad sat up straight and spoke clearly, trying to show the waitress they weren't uncouth.

"Yes, we'll have three orders of the supreme steak fajitas, two cherry Peps, one diet Pep, and we'll start off with the party sampler appetizer." He threw in a quick, "please" when it appeared his delivery hadn't changed her opinion of them.

"I'll be back with your drinks in a moment." She said. She took their drink order to the bar where one of the televisions was broadcasting a news report of the crash.

"Witnesses claim lives would have been lost if not for the intervention of someone dressed in a Darkwing Duck costume." Roxanne Featherly reported. 

"Many speculate that this is the same caped vigilante that has been spotted trying to fight crime throughout St. Canard."

The screen displayed several clips taken from cellphone videos of Darkwing during various attempts to apprehend criminals. 

A purse snatcher thwarted only for the old lady to hit Darkwing with her bag once he returned it. 

A chase down of some bank robbers that ended with him accidentally running into a glass door. 

And one of him trying to dissuade some jaywalkers, only to get hit by a car himself for standing too far off the sidewalk. 

"I don't care who he was, or what he was wearing," the crash survivor told her interviewer. "He saved me and my baby and I'm always going to be grateful for that."

The image returned to Roxanne at the crash site.

"Well, you heard it here. The new Darkwing Duck: Call him a cosplayer, call him crazy, but it looks like we all should be calling him a hero."

===============

On another television, in an undisclosed location, the broadcast was ended with an axe to the screen.

"Hero?" He sneered, anger simmering. "They think  _ he's _ a hero?"

He placed the floor of his lair, to preoccupied with rage to acknowledge the fact that he now needed to go out and steal another TV if he wanted any entertainment.

"He's a poser and he's got them all fooled." He continued to ramble to himself.

He sat in his lumpy, found in the garbage armchair and seethed at the words he had just heard.

"I'll show them the fraud he really is." he smiled wickedly. "He took everything from me. It's my turn to take everything from him."

He grinned, alone in the darkness. Happily plotting his vengeance.

"Oh yes, things are going to get dangerous...very dangerous."

[The end]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. This is a crazy time, with having my baby, moving to Florida and now being stuck in quarantine, so being able to work on this fic and have it be read has been a good escape from stress.
> 
> Just some creative notes before I sign off: 
> 
> Johnswine was loosely based on Dave Hester from Storage Wars. And I imagine him being voiced by Patton Oswalt.
> 
> You may have noticed that I didn't refer to Jim by name when ever I was writing from his perspective. That's because I was trying to convey that he doesn't really see himself as Jim Starling anymore but he hasn't reached the point where he sees himself as the villain, so he's not Negaduck yet either.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the story. I have more ideas so something new may be coming soon. Follow me on Tumblr. Be sure to review or comment.
> 
> Stay safe out there.


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